After spending what felt like an eternity trying to piece together answers to his countless questions, Ethan discovered two harsh truths.
He didn't know anything. And there was nothing he could do about it.
First of all, he was a baby. It would take years before he could accomplish anything meaningful. For himself or anyone else.
Hell, he was probably barely older than his own kid. Assuming no time had passed… assuming Alex had made it out unscathed.
While grappling with this grim reality, other questions crept into his thoughts.
What had he done wrong? Was it a mistake to trust his best friend? Was that why he lost… everything?
Not long before, Ethan had landed a new job. It had decent pay, good benefits, it required relocating to another city, but with Alex at his side, the decision had barely taken any consideration.
He wanted to give her everything. She had found him at his lowest, back when he was a truly loathsome man.
He had taken, stolen, and plundered, caring neither for the well-being of others nor their possessions. Nor even their lives at times.
Not until Alex.
No matter who he was, no matter what he had done, she stood by him.
When he once asked why she tolerated someone like him, she had only smiled. An enchanting smile, like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Because you have a huge capacity for kindness, you're just too blind to see it."
And then, almost as an afterthought, she added, "And I like blondes."
Capacity for kindness? Ethan never understood what she meant. If anything, he thought she was kind of delusional...
Still, a faint smile tugged at his lips. Memories truly were the most potent of balms.
Eventually, exhaustion overtook him. As his eyelids grew heavy, Ethan only hoped that no other ethereal beings would come to disturb his sleep.
---
A week? Perhaps two had passed. Time was difficult to track as an infant. His erratic sleep schedule only made it harder. Sometimes he slept for an hour, sometimes mere minutes, and occasionally for an entire day.
In this strange span of days, Ethan stumbled upon another revelation, one he hadn't considered before. There was a faint chance that he was in an entirely different world altogether.
This conclusion grew from the several details he pick up over those first few weeks.
You see—Life as a baby was uneventful. His sister, whom he realized was a girl only because neither of them wore clothes during his first night, was his only source of entertainment.
As entertaining as staring at a baby for hours on end could be, at least.
During these days, Ethan was often carried from one place to another, sometimes by his mother, sometimes by the kind woman who helped her. His vision had sharpened somewhat, so making sense of things had become easier.
And what he saw disturbed him.
He was either living in an unbelievably regressed European country… or the fifteenth century.
The first thing he noticed was the people—their appearance, to be exact. They wore simple tunics, often disregarding footwear entirely. Their hair was rarely combed, and god knows they needed a shower.
Ethan could've sworn he'd even seen someone in polished silver armor.
The streets were filthy. The roads were packed with dirt mixed with horse dung, worsened by what looked like flood damage. The result was a grotesque mosaic of mud and rot.
The houses matched the streets. Most were little more than shabby timber, with a few stone outliers scattered here and there.
It didn't take Ethan long to realize they lived in the poorest quarter of the city... the slums.
Every now and then, however, his mother would take him and his sister to a far nicer district. There, she would leave them at what resembled a nursery for newborns before disappearing.
Much to Ethan's dismay, he had to rely on different wet nurses for sustenance. The experience was still deeply uncomfortable, though he was certain some might have considered it a blessing.
This part of the city was at least tolerable. The streets were paved with stone, and the buildings were sturdier. The people weren't nobles, but they looked healthier and more importantly, smelled better.
His older brother seemed especially eager whenever they visited. The reason eluded Ethan, but his brother always left excitedly with their mother after dropping him and his sister off.
Yet even this district paled before the opulence of the city's heart.
Ethan had never been there himself, but the view was impossible to miss.
Far in the distance, at the city's center, a towering castle loomed over it all. By day it blazed in the sunlight, and by night it became a spectacle. Its tinted windows glowing with lights of every color.
Around it, smaller but still magnificent structures stood proudly, their glow at night only offering a steady orange.
The people around Ethan always stared at the castle with strong emotions. Some with reverence, others with hope in their eyes.
His mother, however, scowled every time her gaze drifted to the grand structure. Anger looked strange on her kind face.
He didn't know the reason for her dislike of the castle, and it wasn't as if he could ask her directly. For now, curiosity had to be set aside.
At present, Ethan and his twin sister were spending the day in the nursery. His sister's mood always soured here. She was far too attached to their mother, crying endlessly whenever she wasn't in her arms.
That meant Ethan didn't get his share of attention. Not that he minded.
'What a gracious brother I am…'
His thoughts were cut short by the woman tending him. "Salvé, micel Eldric!"
Her smile was bright, though her weary eyes betrayed exhaustion. Ethan had no doubt he wasn't the first infant in her care that day, nor the last—it was still daylight, after all.
What befuddled him most, however, was the strange language they spoke. It sounded like some odd blend of French, Greek, and… Latin?
He wasn't sure. He had dropped out of middle school, after all. He was barely qualified to speak English, let alone any of the mentioned languages.
Still, he had begun to pick up words here and there. "Salvé" probably meant hello. And "Eldric" seemed to be what they called him—his name.
'Not bad…'
The wet nurse frowned slightly. The infant never gave her so much as a glance. He bore an expression that made him seem lost in deep thought, which made her chuckle instead.
With an amused smile, she bared her chest and pulled Ethan closer.
Safe to say, he wasn't thrilled at the development. 'No! I'm not hungry, you—let me go!'
The small boy tried to resist, but eventually resigned himself to his fate.
---
Aurel left the nursing home after dropping off Eldric and Elaine. The twins could not have been more different.
Elaine was an ordinary baby girl. Clingy, yes, but perfectly normal.
Eldric, on the other hand…
"Strange" was an understatement.
He rarely cried, if ever, only when he was hungry.
Once, he simply looked at Aurel, then pointed to his mouth, and—realizing his mistake—quickly began crying like a proper infant.
He also seemed oddly reluctant to nurse.
He never sought attention. He never soiled his swaddling. In fact, he only relieved himself when she was already changing him, as though he understood etiquette.
Sometimes, he even wore a smug expression when looking at his sister. As if regarding her behavior to be immature.
Still, what mattered was that he was healthy. According to Miss Hargette, the boy had suffocated in the womb, only to come back to life... a miracle.
The thought of Hargette weighed heavily on Aurel. The kind matron had sheltered her through her pregnancy, even offering her a room at her inn free of charge. Yet Aurel didn't want to overstay her welcome.
Against the blonde woman's advice, she returned to work.
Not her usual profession, she had yet to recover from childbirth, but it was work nonetheless.
As she walked through the common-district, a raven-haired boy trotted beside her, pretending to ride a horse.
She glanced at Draven with a soft smile. "Stop that, dear. You'll trip."
He gave her a quick glance and obeyed. Such a sweet boy… unlike his father.
Her gaze drifted toward the pompous construct at the city's heart. Bathed in gaudy colors that caught the sun, it loomed arrogantly over the district.
"…Frivolous bastard," she muttered under her breath.
With a sigh, she looked back at Draven, who was now attempting to walk on his hands.
---
They arrived at a strangely lavish building, unusually fine for the common-district. Its angular shape and polished stone set it apart from the ramshackle homes surrounding it.
...The brothel.
'THE SICKLE BORDELLO' was written in large letters.
It stood bold and unashamed in the open, unlike most establishments of its kind. But then again, it belonged to a Sigiled—no, a Herald of the Sigil even. It didn't get more official than that.
That prestige also meant its clientele was different. This place was where illegitimate noble children were conceived.
Outside, children played, laughing in the street. Sons and daughters of the women working inside—bastards, all of them. Oblivious in their innocence, while their mothers…
Aurel forced herself not to dwell on it.
Draven's eyes lingered on the children, his small body bouncing with excitement. She patted his head. "Don't stray too far now."
He grinned wide and bolted toward them. "I won't!"
Aurel watched him a moment longer, wishing he might never learn the truth... the truth of who he was, and what she is.
She pushed open the marble door, which closed behind her without a sound.
Inside, the bordello was just as it had been: dark oak walls, red-and-brown furniture, the air heavy with perfume. Two narrow hallways stretched from either side of the worn but stately oak desk.
Aurel sat, took up the quill, and signed her name into the ledger of made of Aghorath hide. Paper was far too costly for such records, a rare commodity.
Just as she settled, a tall man stumbled in. Handsome, forty, and utterly drunk.
Aurel sighed. 'They always are.'
Count Gymes. A regular—and one she had personally serviced.
Forcing a seductive smile, she straightened her posture. "Welcome back, Narlen…"
Her finger traced slow circles over his hand. "Tell me... whose taste tempts you tonight?"